


no time for romance

by landfill_lady



Series: umbrella academy kinkmeme fills [3]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Intervention Gone Wrong - Gone Sexual (Not Clickbait!), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Dubious Consent, Gangbang, Humiliation kink, M/M, Object Insertion, Relapse, Sibling Incest, Under-negotiated Kink, adult Five, baby's first idfic, enema play, sex under the influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-01-14 12:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18476644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/landfill_lady/pseuds/landfill_lady
Summary: Luther might have been Number One in their father’s eyes, but his typical response to a problem—punching it until it goes away—isn’t going to be much help in an intervention.As usual, Five is going to have to take the lead here.(based onthiskinkmeme prompt. i've fucked around with the order of events a bit; hopefully op will forgive me my hubris)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **important disclaimer: this is a work of pornographic fiction, not a kink instruction manual. always obtain verbal consent from your sexual partners irl, and _blease_ do not put wine up your butt under any circumstances**
> 
>  
> 
> this fic takes place after the gang have successfully averted the apocalypse in the past and returned to the present; all are physically 30-ish. (incidentally my faceclaim for adult!five is michiel huisman, who you may remember as Slightly Condescending Bae from _the haunting of hill house_.)
> 
>  

It's been almost a year since they stopped the apocalypse, now, and Five's coming to the end of his patience with Klaus. He's not the only one, either: the rest of their siblings are beginning to show the signs of strain as well.

The pattern—because it  _is_ a pattern, that much has become abundantly clear—repeats every few weeks, like clockwork. Klaus will be back on the wagon, clean and working to get his life back on track. He'll have a new job, a new pad, maybe even a new therapist if things are going especially well. The energy in the mansion will be high, all of them full up with pride and cautious optimism.

But inevitably the stress, and the cravings, and the sheer fucking volume of the dead's constant inescapable whispering will get to Klaus, and he'll seek the nearest port of escape. Booze, pills, powders, even harder stuff... whatever's most convenient, Klaus will get his hands on some and lose himself to it. He'll float around in a ghoulish haze for a week or two before the high is no longer good enough and he starts playing Icarus with his doses. Inevitably, he'll end up in the closest ER, sweaty and crying and begging for someone to come pick him up. The overdose will scare him off substance use for a bit, and the cycle will start again. Over and over,  _ad infinitum._

They say you can never really cure an addiction; that once you've had a taste, you'll be fighting the hunger off for the rest of your life, unable to escape the memory of how good each hit felt. It certainly seems to be true for Klaus. But Klaus is good at inspiring hope, with his quick smile and his gleefully irreverent sense of humor and his wide, wet, endlessly hopeful eyes. Which makes it all the more disappointing, hell, all the more painful, every time Five has to watch him spiral back into addiction.

Klaus had been so fucking goodthese past few weeks, he'd almost begun to think, to  _hope_ that— But Five has enough experience by now to know where hoping gets you with Klaus. So when Number Four slinks into their weekly family meeting over an hour late, his cheeks flushed and stinking of cheap liquor, Five's bitterly disappointed but not exactly surprised.

He can feel himself beginning to shut down the way he does whenever he's emotionally overwhelmed; boxing his feelings away and focusing in on small, insignificant sensory details like the color of the half-empty wine bottle in Klaus’ hand.  Klaus' slim, ragged-nailed fingers hold it by the neck in a loose enough grip that Five assumes it isn't the first bottle of the evening.

Klaus' eyes widen comically when he flounces into the sitting room only to find them all waiting on him. He's obviously forgotten the meeting altogether, and just come looking for a convenient place to crash for the evening. This is hardly a first time, either.

"Good evening, all!" Klaus drawls, trying to correct for his slip with bravado. It almost works. He's doing an admirable job of acting more sober than he really is, but his swaying and the reek of liquor on his breath give him away.

Five grits his teeth and takes a healthy sip of his own ever-present martini, hoping the burn of the vodka will distract him from the burn of his disappointment at his brother. His siblings seem similarly distressed: Diego is flexing and unflexing his fists rhythmically, and a muscle tics sharply in Luther’sgargantuanneck. In her seat, Vanya is beginning to look disturbingly pale, a sure sign that she’s feeling emotionally unstable. Allison puts a careful hand on her shoulder and leads her out of the room, shooting a “you deal with this” look over her shoulder at Luther. Five resists the urge to snort. Luther might have been Number One in their father’s eyes, but his typical response to a problem—punching it until it goes away—isn’t going to be much help in an intervention.

As usual, Five is going to have to take the lead here.

Once the heavy panelled doors have closed definitively behind their sisters, Fiverises from his seat, teleporting so that he’s towering over where Klaus has slumped into the nearest divan. He yanks the bottle out of Klaus’ hand and sets it down roughly on the coffee table behind him,  watching with disgust as Klaus’ eyes track its motion hungrily.

Five can tell Klaus expects a shouting match, has braced himself for one carefully, even. So he takes a different tack, even though a large, petty part of himself would dearly love to just let loose and roar himself hoarse, until Klaus is flecked with spittle and shaking uncontrollably with fear.

He’s immensely proud of himself for the quiet, mocking kindness in his voice when he finally speaks, mostly because he knows just how fucking responsive Klaus is to it.

”None of us are expecting all that much of you at this point, Four. But you could at least _try_ not to interrupt family meetings with your melodramatic bullshit.”

Klaus doesn’t say anything, just curls into himself all watery-eyed and chastened, which almost makes Five feel a stab of pity, but… “Are you _hard_?”

Klaus squirms and covers his lap guiltily; Five gets the strongest urge to make his brother _ashamed_ of himself, get him sniffling on all fours and begging for forgiveness. He hardly thinks before ordering, “Luther, hold him down. Diego, get his pants off.” Both his brothers look slightly stunned but obey hungrily.

Five is right, as he usually is. As it turns out Klaus _is_ hard, leaking a wet patch on his underwear. “You sick little bitch,” Five breathes admiringly; Klaus flushes, squeezes his legs together.

“It’s not you, it’s the…” He shifts uncomfortably, letting out a little moan when the motion seems to jolt something inside him. 

Five feels his vision go red. “Diego, get his panties off," he barks. Sure enough, there’s a plug nestled between Klaus’ pale cheeks.Five laughs meanly, leaning down to trace a thumb over Klaus’ cheekbone.“Always fucking yourself one way or another, aren’t you?”

Klaus squirms, looks pleadingly at the bottle; Five can tell his pleasant buzz is beginning to wear off. “Please, I just need a little more-”

“You need _more_?” Five asks, abruptly furious all over again. He waves the bottle in front of Klaus’ nose, so close he goes cross-eyed watching it. “Filling yourself up like that wasn’t enough for you, you greedy piece of shit?’ Klaus shakes his head slowly, hypnotized. His cheeks are flushed with a mixture of shame and intoxication. Five is swept away by a hot wave of anger, and beneath that, furious lust.

“Fine. You want more, Klaus? _Earn it._ ”

Five snaps his fingers at Luther businesslike. "Set him down on the coffee table." Number One obeys silently before pulling back to watch whatever Five is about to do from a careful distance.

Once Luther’s sturdy arms are no longer supporting him, Klaus tips forward bonelessly onto his hands and knees. His legs are slightly spread like this, and the base of the plug—pink, sparkly silicon, because _of course_ it is—peeks out invitingly from between his pert cheeks.

Five yanks the plug out without warning, drawing a pained little noise out of Klaus. Once it's out, Five jabs two fingers into him without ceremony, trying to judge whether Klaus is slick enough for the hazy, resentful idea currently forming in Five's head.

He is, but just barely. Lucky for Five.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pliant and vulnerable like this, it's easy to manhandle Klaus up onto his knees, where he peers up at Five with wide-eyed, almost innocent confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo this probably isn't the ideal place to ask but... could one of y'all let your local horndog into the kliego discord??  
> 〈(゜。゜;)

Pliant and vulnerable like this, it's easy to manhandle Klaus up onto his knees, where he peers up at Five with wide-eyed, almost innocent confusion. Five picks up the abandoned bottle, brings it up to Klaus' mouth.

"Suck," he orders.

Klaus wraps his plump, wine-stained lips obediently around the neck, but Five doesn't tilt it up so he can drink. Instead, he knots a hand in Klaus' hair to keep him in place and shoves the bottle viciously  _up_ so it hits the back of his throat, making him gag and sputter. Once the neck is coated in saliva, Five yanks it back out without warning, releasing his handful of curls to nudge Klaus' shaking legs further apart. He wedges the bottle’s thick base carefully between them, and cants Klaus’ hips down so the bottle’s mouth nudges up against Klaus’ slick, twitching hole. 

His brother gasps quietly, looking up at Five all shocked and betrayed, like Five can’t possibly be asking him to do something so filthy, so _debasing_. Five just grins, taking pains to keep his smile cool and condescending.

“You want it, Four? Ride it like the slut you are, or you’re not getting another fucking drop,” he orders matter-of-factly, relishing the way Klaus’ lip quivers like he’s on the verge of tears. Klaus glances piteously over at their silent audience like he's thinking about appealing to them for help, but Diego and Luther are both so raptly focused on him and so obviously, shamelessly aroused that he drops their gaze quickly, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment and confused arousal. Five waits patiently for his brother's thirst for oblivion to overpower his sense of shame. It takes even less time than he'd anticipated: after barely a minute, Klaus lets out a desperate little wail and bears down on the bottle, clamping his calves tight around the base to keep it still as hegrindsslowly down on the neck. Five drinks in the sight greedily. Klaus is rock hard, has been ever since they started this little game, and leaking steadily against his stomach even though the bottle can't be doing much for his prostate at this angle. Five's not a betting man, but if he had to guess, he'd say Klaus is probably getting off more from the sheer humiliation of his brothers seeing him like this than anything else.

Luther and Diego watch Klaus hungrily as he works himself down onto the bottle, panting and rocking. Five smirks over at them with a strong wave of nostalgia, remembering back when the three of them would compete to assert their masculinity bytormenting their weakest, most impressionable, _effeminate_ sibling.

“What do you think, boys? Has he earned it?”

They both nod slowly, squinting at Five like they’re trying to work out where he’s going with this. Below them, Klaus lets out a sweet little sob of anticipated relief, drawing Five's focus like the sharp scent of blood in the air.

“You need it?” he coos, stroking Klaus’ sweat-slick curls back from his gorgeous, desperate face. Klaus nods insistently,tears of frustration and embarrassment mingling on his flushed, sweaty cheeks. His body is lax with anticipated release, and he goes easily when Five tips him forward so his forehead and chest press against laquered wood, his hips lifted invitingly. It's a gorgeous picture, one Five hates to ruin. But what comes next is going to be  _so_ much nicer.

With his free hand, Five grips the bottle and angles it so the remaining wine pours slowly down into Klaus’ twitching, abused hole. Once the bottle's completely empty, he pulls it out of the clutch of Klaus’ ass with a slick little _pop_. A few small scarlet droplets speckle artfully across Klaus’ cheeks and perenium, but to his credit, he holds the rest in, looking up at Five with shocked, wet, delicious _betrayal_ in his eyes. 

“There you go,” Five tells him mockingly, luxuriating in his obvious discomfort. “Hold it in as long as you can. We don’t want it going to waste, do we?”

Beneath him, Klaus is gasping, whimpering with the effort of holding the liquid inside himself. In the background, Luther and Diego watch his trembling form with twin hungry expressions.

"I- I can’t—"

"But you worked so hard for it, Klaus," Diego joins in, warm and persuasive. His voice is deceptively innocent considering how raptly his dark eyes are focused on the filthy scene before him."Don’t tell me you’re gonna let it go to waste now, baby."

Klaus still looks desperate and embarrassed, his lip quivering, but he lowers his gaze back to the table, lets his kohl-smudged eyes fall shut as hebites his lip in concentration and adjusts himself into a slightly less uncomfortable position. He’s the absolute picture of reluctant submission, his ass still canted up and his fists clenched at his sides and shaking slightly. It makes heat flare in Five’s gut (and judging by the way his brothers are reacting, they’re not exactly immune to the allure either).

Feeling uncharacteristically charitable, Five only times out ten minutes on his watch. By nine, Klaus’ thighs are shakingsteadily, and his breath keeps hitching like he’s verging on tears. “Please, Five— I can’thold it in any longer—” he begs.

Five soothes him with a gentle hand on the back of his neck. **“** Can you make it to the bathroom on your own, Klaus?” he asks gently. Klaus’ head shakes slowly, and Five snaps his fingers imperiously at Luther. “Carry him into the master bath."

“Can’t you just-?” Luther gestures, clumsily miming _pick him up and teleport._ "I mean, won't he... you know. Spill?"

Below them, Klaus whimpers like the word itself is a physical wound. 

Five _could_ , of course, it would certainly be more expedient. But the whole point of this exercise is to punish Klaus, not to get things done efficiently.

“He’ll make it there," he half-answers Luther. "He wants to be good for us. Don’t you, Klaus?” Klaus nods emphatically, sniffling. Diego lets out a beleaguered, fond little huff and snatches him up before Luther can so much as twitch a muscle. Heisn’t large enough to bridal-carry Klaus comfortably, but he slings Klaus over his shoulder in an incongruously gentle fireman’s carry.

Too impatient to follow them down the hall, Five teleports himself to Reginald's ancient suite and sets about getting a few things ready as he waits for them to arrive.Luther, ever the gentleman, holds the door for Diego, who’s murmuring soothing little nothings into Klaus’ ear. He’s rubbing Klaus’ back in a way that’s meant to be soothing, but probably only enhances the uncomfortable pressure in Klaus’ midsection. Klaus leans into it anyways, blossoming into any hint of soft treatment like the sweet, needy little bitch he is.

Diego glances covetously down at Klaus, like he wants to keep their pretty brother all to himself, but hands him over obediently into Five's waiting arms once he nears the bathroom. Five nods at him in acknowledgement, but says nothing, his attention so thoroughly pulled by Klaus' sublime discomfort.  Five sets him down gently on the toilet, but Klaus doesn't seem to register the movement; his body's still pulled taut with the effort of holding himself together. "You can let go now, Klaus," Five tells him lowly, knowing that like this he needs clear, explicit instructions.

Klaus does, his body wracked with desperate, heaving sobs of pure relief as the liquid flushes itself out of him. Once he's emptied, he slumps back bonelessly towards the wall, his eyelids fluttering shut. Five takes pity on his pathetic form and flushes for him before cleaning Klaus carefully with a wet washcloth. His brother squirms when the cloth swipes at his wet, freshly-sensitive hole, but lacks the energy to fight back against Five's ministrations. Once he's clean and dry, Five lifts Klaus' lax form into his arms and carries him out into father's bedroom.

Klaus looks confused when Five sets him down on Father’s king mattress rather than in his own room: still so unsuspecting, even after everything. Five laughs down at him, perhaps a bit meanly.

“You thought we were letting you off that easily? Oh no, sweetheart. You still have plenty to grovel for.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as he resents to admit that Sir Reginald had any kind of long-lasting impact on his psyche, the fact is Five didn’t get off any easier than the rest of his siblings. A childhood of neglect and fifth-place status has left him desperate to be looked up to, respected and obeyed by the people he cares for. So there’s an appeal to having Luther and Diego look to him in a situation like this, implicitly trusting him to call the shots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for the kind comments and kudos! i’m really bad at taking compliments (not hargreeves-level emotional constipation but like... close) so it’ll probably take me a while to respond to y’all, but in the meantime just know that i really appreciate the encouraging words, and they helped me finish this a lot quicker than i probably would’ve in a vacuum.

Luther and Diego stumble into the bedroom well behind Five and his precious cargo. They both exhale sharply when they take in the pornographic vista: Klaus sprawled out naked and shameless on the bed and Five looming above him, still fully dressed. 

When he turns to look at them, Five's heart twinges at their surprise, their sheer, wide-eyed _innocence_. It's easy to forget how much younger his siblings are than him, now that they all look the same. But so freshly grown, their shiny morals still mostly intact, they're going to need to be steered gently into this specific kind of filth. (Except for Klaus, who evidently just needs to be shoved ass-up and humiliated to tears. Not that Five is complaining about _that,_ mind you.)

Klaus makes a little noise, and Diego's arm twitches out towards him like a badly-suppressed reflex. He stills it quickly, looking guilty, like he's not sure he's allowed.

"Want to touch?" Five asks, carefully careless.

“Can I?” Diego asks hoarsely.

Five nods, feeling a flare of satisfaction at his brother’s careful deference. As much as he resents to admit that Sir Reginald had any kind of long-lasting impact on his psyche, the fact is Five didn’t get off any easier than the rest of his siblings. A childhood of neglect and fifth-place status has left him desperate to be looked up to, respected and obeyed by the people he cares for. So there’s an appeal to having Luther and Diego look to him in a situation like this, implicitly trusting _him_ to call the shots. It’s especially flattering considering One and Two’s own substantial leadership complexes.

"Do whatever you want to him," he instructs magnanimously, liking the way Diego doesn't move forward towards the bed until he's done speaking.

Once he's there he doesn't waste any time, shoving Klaus' knees up roughly to his chest and hooking his forearms underneath them so Klaus is effectively holding himself open. Diego crawls back down Klaus' body so they're nose-to-taint, coaxing a high, surprised moan out of Klaus when he licks over his exposed hole.

He pulls back just long enough to husk out, "You taste good _,_ baby." Klaus whines with embarrassment, long and high, crosses his ankles in a futile attempt to shield himself as Diego dives back in. Diego doesn't let it phase him, just shoves Klaus' legs to his sides so he's pinned down flat against the mattress and goes to town.

Klaus looks close already, rocking helplessly back against Diego's face. He makes the prettiest little noises as Diego eats him out, moans and shrieks and breathless little whimpers. Distantly, Five is disappointed that their other siblings aren't here right now to witness Klaus' slutty little display. Fuck, he wants their  _neighbors_ to hear his brother's gorgeous desperation, most importantly wants them to know this is all because of Five.

Under Diego's ministrations, Klaus' writhing is getting increasingly more frantic. Just as he seems to be on the edge, Diego pulls back, wrapping two fingers viciously tight around the base of Klaus' cock. Five hums in approval, proud of how fast Diego is catching on. Klaus himself doesn't seem to understand yet; he's looking down the bed at Diego with an adorably disgruntled expression.

"What—?"

"This is a punishment, Klaus," Five explains, his tone dripping baby-talk condescension. "It wouldn't be fair for you to come before the rest of us, would it?"

It's a rhetorical question, but Klaus shakes his head anyways, his eyes welling up afresh with tears of shame. Diego thumbs them away gently, staring raptly at Klaus' sweet, chastised expression, before turning to Five.

"Lube?" he asks hoarsely, like it's physically paining him not to be inside of Klaus right now.

Five tosses him the bottle, smirking, and settles in to watch the show.

Diego's good instincts seem to extend to this as well. He seems to know exactly what Klaus needs, shoving two fingers in with absolutely no warning. He doesn't give Klaus enough time to adjust to the sensation before he starts to fingerfuck him, so that every thrust of his wrist has Klaus gasping with the stretch and burn. Two fingers quickly become three, and then Diego's pulling his digits out and slicking himself up, looking darkly intent. When he shoves himself home, Klaus  _keens_ , thrashing and scrabbling at Diego's back. The masochistic little bitch looks almost high on his own pleasure; his pupils are blown, his expression slack and vacant with sheer satisfaction.

True to form, Diego doesn't go easy on him. He fucks into Klaus viciously, so that his balls are slapping against the medium's ass with every thrust. He's still in his clothes, his fly undone but otherwise fully buttoned-up, and the sight of him looming over Klaus' nude, vulnerable form is absolutely fucking pornographic. Diego seems to think so too: his hips are stuttering regularly now, and after just a few more punishing thrusts he's coming, thrusting forward so hard Klaus' head knocks against the headboard.

When he pulls out, he presses a gentle little kiss to the corner of Klaus' panting mouth. Klaus leans into it, desperate as ever for any scrap of affection. When Diego pulls away, to shuck his come-stained clothes and sink into an armchair to watch whatever happens next, he looks adorably lost.

Five's fingertips itch to touch him. But Luther has been so patient, so  _obedient,_ that he deserves a reward first. From the way he's eyeing Klaus' sprawled form, it's obvious that One just wants to push between his legs and rut into him until Klaus is sobbing with it. But Luther is strong, not to mention  _heavy,_ and Five doesn't want to break Klaus just yet.

"Luther, sit against the headboard," he instructs.

Number One obeys with alacrity, moving so fast the bedframe shakes with it. Like Diego, he pops his fly but keeps his clothes on, although Five suspects his motivations have more to do with body image issues than any sexual preferences.  He slicks himself up clumsily, but doesn't make any move to touch his brother, waiting on Five's command.  _Good._

"Klaus, get in his lap," Five orders. Klaus shakes his head reflexively, staring wide-eyed at Luther's intimidating length; Five feels a stab of irritation. "That wasn't a question, Four," he snaps. "You've been a bad boy, and now you have to take your punishment. Now, put your hands on his shoulders and _sit_ _down_ on him."

Klaus obeys shakily, pushing himself up to squat over Luther's lap on weak, quaking legs. He braces one hand on Luther's meaty shoulder, working the other down beneath himself to line him up with Klaus' hole. The head pops inside, and Klaus throws his head back and  _wails,_ utterly overwhelmed by the fullness. When he sinks down, it's less a conscious motion than a slow failure of the strength in his legs. After another sharp reprimand, he gathers his remaining strength and starts to ride Luther, motions slow and jerky with overwhelmed exhaustion.

Luther doesn't last nearly as long as Diego; Five can't blame him, not with Klaus all shaky and spent and desperate like this.

Once Luther pulls out, Five takes his brother's place against the headboard, guides Klaus down on himself. Unlike Luther, he lets himself use his hands, dragging Klaus' pliant body up and down like a cheap fucktoy. Every sink back down punches an intoxicating little mewl out of him; Five's getting drunk on the sound.

It takes a shamefully short amount of time before he's coming, pistoning his hips up and yanking Klaus' down viciously so his release marks Klaus up inside as deeply as possible. Once he's spent, he lifts Klaus off of him before settling him back-to-chest in Five's lap. He's unable to resist playing with his fucked-out little hole, tilting Klaus' head firmly with his free hand so he's forced to watch himself in the bedroom mirror.

"Look at how wrecked you are, baby," he purrs, enjoying the way it makes Number Four's cheeks pink even further.

Klaus shakes his head, a useless denial; Five is seized by the urge to grab his wrist so hard it bruises and force him to fuck himself with his fingers, feel the sheer amount of come leaking out of his slutty little hole. But he won't be that mean, at least not today. Klaus is easy, but he's skittish, too, easy to scare off. For now, Five has to let Klaus preserve the illusion of unreality, pretend this is some fucked-up filthy fantasy he's enjoying without pushing over the edge into being  _real._

That means, at least for now, he needs to let Klaus stay passive, do things  _to_ him rather than making him participate actively in his own defilement. Which is fine. Five's a patient man; he can live with it. That doesn't mean he won't still make Klaus squirm in the meantime, though.

"Do you think he still tastes good?" he wonders aloud, mostly just to make Klaus shiver.

Diego's eyes meet his own in the mirror, black-hole dark.

"Let's find out."

He leans down and  _in,_ spreading Klaus' cheeks with his thumbs so that he can lap at him. Five can't see very well from this angle, but he can _hear_ Diego's tongue, loud and obscene in the quiet of the room. Diego shoves a few fingers lazily inside him before pulling back to meet Klaus’ eyes.

"No," he sighs, mock disappointed. "Now he just tastes like a used-up little slut."

Klaus gasps and comes, completely untouched, as a fresh wave of tears spills down his cheeks. He whimpers pathetically as Diego brings a calloused hand up to stroke him through it.He doesn't stop until Klaus is milked dry, shaking and heaving with overstimulation. He looks so absolutely _destroyed_  that Five's spent cock gives a last valiant twitch.

There will be time enough later to grab a washcloth for Klaus, strip off the comforter; for now, Five presses a brief, possessive kiss to Klaus' forehead before rolling swiftly aside. He's never been one for cuddling; he'll leave Luther and Diego to plaster themselves along Klaus' spent frame, curl protectively around him and run their hands slow and sweet and possessive across his body, the way they're so obviously longing to. As they flop down over him like overgrown puppies, Klaus lets out a sweet, satisfied little noise and snuggles into the pressure of their combined weight. Loose-limbed, he brings his hands up to pet weakly through their sweat-soaked hair, and a light blinks belatedly on inside Five's head.

"This is what you need to get you sober, isn't it?" he asks aloud, although he doesn't really need the confirmation. "Somebody ordering you around, making sure you're being good. Fucking you so stupid there isn't a single thought left in your pretty little head. Is that what your soldier boy did for you?"

Klaus whimpers and nods, hiding his face in the crook of Diego’s neck. Unseen, Five grins. 

"That's okay, sweetheart. We'll take care of you from now on," he promises, tracing a finger idly around Klaus' puffy, abused rim one last time.

His brother's answering shiver is full of delicious apprehension. 

**Author's Note:**

> fic title from "intoxicated" by martin solveig (featured here 99.9% because i got a cheap laugh out of the title but also a verified bop just fyi)


End file.
